Chapter Twelve
Two hours later Sevastyan descended into the bowels of Haven. Matteo behind him.
Roman wouldn’t be far behind.
Finally out of sight from the club’s patrons, the tension carried between his shoulder blades eased. He rolled his shoulder, the soreness more evident tonight than most. The bullet he’d taken when some dumb ass tried to take out his father years ago and missed left permanent nerve damage.
He glanced at the clock over another bank of computer monitors to his right. By now Seraphina was probably rounding out her shift and getting ready to head home.
Matteo went straight for a chair backed up against the wall with clear visuals to both entrances. The man was paranoid as the day was long. Nothing would change there any time soon.
Positioned along the left wall was a set of computers. The closed-circuit feed gave them a bird’s eye view of the entire three floors like the monitors in his office. No room except his office and this room were left unmonitored.
Except tonight the monitors were busy running the facial recognition software while more images filled the others—death records, business statements, names, and associates of people who were members of their club.
Lucian sat manning the monitors, shoulders hunched over and nose buried in data that filled his screen. Their resident hacker might come off as nerdy but the man could bury a blade in flesh and not flinch.
He’d witnessed it. Now Lucian wore his hair cut short, but when he’d met him years ago he’d kept it long. After a fucker grabbed it one night and tried to put a blade through his skull for nothing more than being associated with Sevastyan, Lucian had cut it.
Dressed in slacks similar to his own, Lucian had discarded his jacket and rolled up the sleeves to his shirt. Judging by the creases, that appeared to have been hours ago.
“Missed you out on the floor tonight.” Sevastyan knew the man hated all the show-boating and preferred pouring over the data at his fingertips. While Matteo liked to mingle with the people to gather intel, Lucian preferred his own form of digging. According to him with the amount of tech in the world, he could find any piece of information on anyone given enough time.
“Good, you’re here,” Lucian answered, swiveling around in his chair. “Heard about the little scene in your office last night. What the fuck?”
Grey eyes met his.
When Sevastyan didn’t offer a reply Lucian pushed on. “Some of the male members are commenting. Word on the floor is that the coldhearted boss finally gave in to temptation. Again. What the fuck, man? I thought we agreed... together or nothing.”
“The floor seems to talk a lot.” A thin thread of irritation wound through his tone.
Lucian turned to Matteo giving him the same deathly stare.
Matteo spread his hands in front of him, not caring. “We were just talking.”
“With her sucking you off. Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too, bro.”
“No fucking honor,” Lucian muttered.
Matteo gave a cocky grin.
Sevastyan cranked a single brow at Lucian. Their in-house hacker worked hard to stay out of people’s business for the most part, but Sevastyan knew it wouldn’t be that way where Seraphina was concerned. He expected the push back.
“It wasn’t planned. She surprised us.”
Lucian nodded, turning back to monitors. “Sure. That’s what it looked like.”
Sevastyan smiled. His friend’s sharp eyes never missed a detail and he hadn’t expected him to miss the little show they put on with Seraphina last night to go unnoticed. The cameras were an extension of Lucian and he knew the bastard watched the whole thing go down.
He almost felt sorry for the man.
Raised in an orphanage and bounced around from family to family, like many men, Lucian turned to the first thing he found that offered a stable income—arms dealing.
Lucian had been the east coast's youngest arms dealer for a time and made a damn nice chunk of money doing it—a legit multi-millionaire by the age of twenty-three. He’d offered everyone in on the deal, but he’d let the men fly without him. By that time Sevastyan had his hands full with a dying mother and too much rage to be of use to anyone back then.
Six years in, the men grew tired of the death their deals brought around and they stepped out of the life. For nearly seven years they all lived in peace. He shed the mafia life, opting to run a small bar out west and the men joined him. They were at peace.